


The Strange and Unpunctual Life of Leonard Snow

by sugarybowl



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, F/M, KillerWaveWeek2016, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarybowl/pseuds/sugarybowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: it takes a village and a pyromaniac to raise a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Parents

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to attempt to answer all the days of KillerWaveWeek2016 in this fic!

Mick had seen too many things in his too many years to blink at the sight of this, but Dr. Caitlin Snow is siting at Saints and Sinners with her back like a lightning rod and her little ass perched on top of the cardigan she laid over the bar stool. He's seen stranger things, but at least this one is pleasant. He's always liked the good doctor. She has spark. She burns cold.

She barely glances his way when he sits next to her, instead focusing the full power of her glared on the shot glass in front of her. The amber liquid sits peaceful and untouched in front of her crossed arms. 

"You oughta dump it if you think it's roofied," he says without preamble, "wouldn't be surprised if it is." 

"It's not," she says without taking her eyes off the thing.

"What's wrong with it then?"

She takes her glare from the drink and levels it at Mick. He'd be scared shitless if he weren't suddenly enthralled. 

"I'm pregnant," she says simply. Mick's eyebrows fly up and he grunts in commiseration.

"Shit."

"You don't know the half of it," she says as she turns back to the shot in front of her. 

He must be nostalgic or some other emotional shit because in that moment she reminds him so much of Snart - frustrate and offended by her own frustration. And just like Snart, he can't seem to walk away from something he knows he should run from. 

"I got time," he says, wondering if she gets the joke.

She snorts, just once, so she probably does.

"I guess it only makes sense that the first person I tell is the pyro who wanted to burn me alive," she says. 

He motions for a beer and doesn't protest the description. The woman hasn't lied.

"I thought he was perfect," she says, "and I was an idiot not to realize he was too perfect. I was an idiot to think I could really fall in love again. But he was ...he was a monster. So much worse than a monster. He killed so many dozens, hundreds maybe, and Ba- my best friend's dad. He was a real monster too... God those black eyes I can't fall asleep at night because I see them. And now I'm carrying his child."

He clears his throat, completely out of his element.

"You don't gotta if you don't want," he finally says.

"I know," she answers quietly, "I know I don't."

She nods at the shot glass and Mick understands. She's making a choice right now. Mick is the only witness. 

"Snart's dead," he says. It's the only thing on his mind.

The words seem to startle her and her face goes through several expressions before she frowns.

"Rory I... I'm sorry. I knew you'd been recruited along with Jax and Dr. Stein but I didn't -"

"He had to go and be a goddamn hero and now he's dead. There were these assholes they had us all by strings, you and me and Snart and even the fucking Flash. Everyone in history and we didn't even know it. Snart cut the strings. So if you were worried about fate or destiny or whatever don't be. Never had more choices than you do now."

"And no one knows," she whispers, "no one knows he sacrificed himself -"

"The team knows. Lisa knows. I know. Who else matters?"

"He did something for humanity," she tells him as if he didn't know, "and no one will ever know his name."

"It's why Rip chose us in the first place," he says with a shrug, "cause none of us are ever going to matter that much."  
She looks horrified by the very idea. That's the kind of person Snow is.

"Listen it would've mess with his rep anyway," he says as he gets up and nods at her drink, "I'll leave ya to it."

* * *

The Flash is impressed the first time he catches Mick at a heist on his own. He's between time jumps and bored out of his mind, but he bothered to clear the place before he lit it up and apparently the kid appreciates that. 

"I thought you were past this sort of thing," The Flash says, "time traveling hero and all."

"Where's the pay in that?"

He can see the kid smile under the cowl, the ghost of Snart making the air heavy around them. Or maybe that's the smoke.

"Um, my friend wants me to tell you something. Dr. Snow? She says to tell you umm - says you're going to owe her a drink in a few months."  
Mick huffs out a laugh and finally pull up his heat gun. 

"Tell her I'll get the whole damn bottle," he says as he turns to head out.

* * *

He knew staying friends with Jax and Stein was going to cost him. He just never thought he was going to find himself on this side of a kidnapping. Mick throws his whole weight against the door again even though he knows it's useless. He has no gun and even if he did, what good would it do other than fry himself and the other person they've stuffed in this industrial refrigerator? 

Snow sits in a corner, his soot clogged jacket wrapped around herself like some kind of shell. She's curled around her belly like the rest of her can keep it extra warm. Maybe it can. What the hell does he know? All he knows is when he gets out of here those bastards are going to get a slow death.

"Stop hurting yourself," she grumbles, "you're only going to give me more work when we get out and all I want is to go to bed and put my feet up."

"Pretty confident we're gonna get out of here then?"

She looks up at him, her eyebrow raised in clear judgment. 

"I didn't survive three apocalypses and have the Flash for a best friend to die in a freezer, Mick. They'll be here."

He growls, fully growls, before slumping down beside her.

"Not happy waiting for the rescue, huh?"

"Not my style," he grunts.

"You get used to it," she sighs. 

"Like hell I will," he mutters. It makes her laugh. 

"Len and Sara got stuck like this," he tells her, "only I hate the fucking cold."

"Tell me more stories," she sighs, curling the coat closer to herself and closing her eyes, "about the Waverider. And Snart."

"Like stories about Snart?"

"Turns out he's a good hero," she says.

"Keep yer eyes open," he says roughly. 

She opens them and nods, looking concerned but only for a second. He tells her about meeting Snart, the other kids trying to shiv him and how small and fierce he looked. He tells her about Malta, he tells her about Philly. He even tells her about Lisa's high school play. 

By the time the Flash and his crew do show up Caitlin is shaking, not from the cold, but laughing helplessly as she clutches her round belly. 

* * *

He wasn't going to show up. It was ridiculous to show up. It was ridiculous that they would even call him to show up. But the fact is that he's outside a hospital room beside Lisa's little geek of a boyfriend and the Flash - in all his unmasked 12 year old glory - means that he's being ridiculous right about now.

"We have nothing to be worried about," Ramon is muttering, "this is completely natural. Women do this all the time. And Cait's a woman. Ergo this is going to be totally fine. And the chances of her baby being a Zoom-demon-child are -"

"Cisco!"

"They're slim, Barry, they're slim!"

"If you don't shut up your skull's gonna be slim," he says, leaning back in his seat.  
After another hour and a half Clarissa Stein comes over to them, with a bright smile and clapping hands.

"Oh it's a boy," she says, "a beautiful little boy. Iris is with Caitlin, you boys can come in now."  
Caitlin looks like a damn mess, her hair is matted against her forehead and the bags of her eyes are dark as bruises. Mick thinks she looks gorgeous. The little wrinkled thing in her arms on the other hand, that doesn't look like it's cooked yet.

"Hello," she says as the three of them walk in the room. The other two shower her with questions and hugs and kisses. They lay plush toys and flowers at her bedside table. When she finally manages them to shove them off Mick approaches, pulling the bottle of Jack out of his jacket and putting on the table beside a bright purple teddy bear. 

"Owe ya a drink," he grunts out. She laughs, tired and slow but loud and happy. 

"Thanks Mick," she says, "wanna meet him?"

"That's not a good idea," he mutters, "better keep 'im close."

"Have you decided on a name yet?" Iris asks.

"Um, I bounced a few around," she says, "I thought for while I'd name him after Ronnie but... seeing him it just doesn't fit."

She looks upset by that and Stein is quick to step up, "I know Ronald wouldn't have minded, Caitlin."

She nods and suddenly she's all eyes for the kid, like it's a lighthouse and she's in the dark.

"You're all going to think I'm crazy but I... I think I'm going to name him Leonard," she says softly.

Mick isn't sure what it is his feeling, maybe like the ground shook a bit. Maybe there's an earthquake.

"Leonard? Like Snart?" the Flash asks.

Caitlin flushes, looking shy. 

"I think that's a wonderful name," he says, his confused frown turning into a grin, "even if it's a mouthful for a little one."

"It's a beautiful name," Clarissa says, and Mick's glad cause he still has no words, "Martin has told me all about that man's bravery - what he did for us all. It's right of you to honor him."

"I did ask Lisa," Caitlin says, looking up at Mick, "I asked her if it'd be alright. I told her all the stories you told me about him helped me and - she said it was alright."

"Course it's alright," Mick finally says, "he'd have liked that. Big headed son of a bitch." 

"Leonard Snow," Cisco says, nodding as he sounds out the name, "yeah - he would've definitely loved that. Welcome to the team little one."


	2. Day Two: Helping Hand

If Caitlin had a moment to reflect on her life, it might dawn on her that she's become something of a primary physician to the reckless and superpowered. Most masked heroes have teams of some kind, but very few have anyone with medical training in their entourage. For a while Barry took some sort of undue pride about having Caitlin in the team once he started rubbing shoulders with every vigilante and metahuman with a sense of duty in the country, as if it had been his idea to become a superhero by being comatose under her care for months.

But the truth is Caitlin doesn't have a moment to reflect on her life because she inevitably has some injured idiot on her examination table and a five month old strapped to her chest. Today the time traveling group of nutcases that sometimes call themselves Legends (every time dripping with sarcasm save for poor Ray Palmer) are all strewn across S.T.A.R. labs in various degrees of medical distress. They're a disaster because, quote 'that new old piece of shit we're flying on has a busted med bay' and they've just been fighting through their ailments until they can't anymore. 

"The sheer stupidity,"she mutters as she tries to do something about Sara's leg which has been fractured and without treatment for days.

"You should know better," she hisses at Dr. Stein as she tries to maneuver around her work space with Leonard squirming awake.  
She should feel bad about berating Dr. Stein, after all it's Jax's concussion which finally brought the team in for some assistance and he must be feeling awful about it. She finds she doesn't care though, especially when the baby starts fussing and she has her hands full of injured assassin.

"Give 'im here," Mick grunts, pushing off he wall he'd been resting on. It isn't that Mick isn't as roughed up as the rest of the team - he is - it's that Mick is a lot more convincing when he says he can deal with it on his own and starts grabbing the appropriate items from her advanced first aid kit. It must come with the territory of not being able to visit a hospital at the risk of being arrested for most of his life.  
Caitlin looks up from her work and blinks twice before she realizes Mick is reaching out for the baby. The baby who keeps bumping his little head on her chin and kicking.

"Oh - I...are you sure?"

"Ain't gonna drop him, Snow, but you might if you keep swinging around like that."  
Cailtin bites her lip and it's only Rip Hunter bickering with Ray about who has the most severe muscle bruising that eases her hesitation. 

"It's a perfectly safe way to carry him," she says as she begins to pull him out of the wrap.

"He's hanging off ya from a goddamn towel, Snow," he says as he reaches to grab him in a surprisingly perfect hold - as if he had experience holding infants. 

"You can't put him down anywhere," she stresses, "he rolls."

"He what?"

"He won't stop rolling, he nearly rolled right off his changing table. Then the bed. I set him on a mat on the floor and he rolled into a bookshelf," she tells him. She realizes she's told everyone about the rolling so it isn't strange that she's telling Mick Rory about the rolling it's only that Mick seems to find this just as amusing as everyone else has and he's smiling. And that is strange. Mick Rory smiling, is.

"Yeah alright I got him, go fix Sara now," he mutters, eyes on the baby as he carries him off, bouncing him slightly as if he's definitely done this before.

* * *

Once the team is patched up and already half way out the door, Caitlin pops into the room where Mick had disappeared off to with her baby. God. She was a terrible parent.  
The room is a disaster and it takes her a solid ten seconds to realize that it is a somewhat organized disaster; desk chairs on their sides, sofa cushions pushed together on the floor, a white board set up as some kind of ramp. It's an obstacle course of some kind and her son is rolling around happily in it, occasionally bumping into a cushion barrier or the soft backrest of a chair. Mick is sitting off on the floor in a corner of his creation, music playing at an impressive volume from a phone. 

"Is that... are you playing 'Papa Was a Rolling Stone' at my son?"

"He likes it," Mick assures her, "I've played it like five goddamn times. Beside they don't got one called 'Papa Was a Metahuman Psychopath'."

"This is...,"she looks around, looking for week spots and dangers. It's not that there aren't any, it's just she has an overwhelming sense of warm at the though that the man to the time to throw this together so that Leonard could roll around to his heart's content.

"Kid wanted to roll," he says simply, pausing the music, "you gotta let him."

"I...hadn't thought of a solution like this," she admits, "I mean there's his playpen but -"

"He doesn't like to be caged?"

"Yeah," she says, "thank you - I'll... have to talk to Barry about refining this but it's great idea."

"Don't mention it," he says, leaning forward on his needs to rub at Leonard's belly as he rolls, "well I'll see ya."

Caitlin isn't sure if he's talking to her or the baby, isn't sure which option confuses her more, so she just stands there somewhat dumbfounded as he goes.


	3. Fourth of July

She’s balancing the baby bag and trying to pick up the last of her things from the desk at STAR Labs when she hears an all to recognizable gruff, “What in the fuck, Snow.”

Caitlin pulls the baby out of his bouncing chair and close to her chest and silently glares at the man walking into the lab.

“He ain’t gonna hear me wearing those,” Mick says as he keeps approaching, raising his large hands to tap the large ear muffs gently, “whatever the hell they are.”

“They’re noise cancelling headphones,” she says, still glaring, “the fireworks could permanently damage his hearing.”

Mick nods, still examining the device on Baby Leonard’s head, “You takin’ him to the bay?”

“No,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m staying home with him.”

It’s the Fourth of July and the whole team is getting ready to celebrate, but she begged off early on in the morning and wouldn’t relent no matter how much everyone insisted or offered to babysit for her.

“How come?”

“I don’t…like to see things blow up in the sky,” she says softly, “besides I think it’s pretty ridiculous. To celebrate peace with sounds of war.”

Mick snorts at that, finally looking up from the baby at her, “And who the hell told you they’re celebrating peace?”

“Good point. Anyway. The rest are going though,” she mentions, “if you want to catch them there.”

“Just wanted to see what you two were doin’,” answers, leaning back on her desk.

“Oh well,” she says, feeling a sudden warmth in her face, “just… Little Einsteins and frozen pizza tonight. You know. Wednesday.”

“Right well,” he says as he pushes off the desk, “let you get going then.”

He sounds reluctant, but as usual Caitlin can’t figure out what it is that’s going on in his head.

“Did you… don’t you want to see the fireworks?”

“Nah, fucking boring. Rather watch a solid flame for an hour than little sparklers going off. Rest of ‘em went off with your people,” he mentions, referring to the Legends, “That’s why I – just wonderin’ where you were that’s all.”

“Oh,” she says stupidly, feeling her face grow hotter still. Close to her chest, Lee starts to wiggle in impatience, “Do you – I mean it’s just frozen pizza and a kids show but do you want to…wait the fireworks out with us? I can put on something less boring when he falls asleep.”

“Got beer?”

The words come quickly, surprising her. Why would Mick want to spend the Fourth of July watching baby cartoons with her and a baby?

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone I’m working at the good mom rep really hard.”

“Ain’t no one gonna fucking judge you for having a beer Cait,” he says, coming closer.

“You haven’t called me Cait in a while,” she points out, “haven’t been to visit Lee either,” she says, carefully avoiding his eyes and bouncing her son lightly. Mick had…hovered, for lack of a better word, during most of her pregnancy. Maybe it was the effect of having known about it almost as soon as she’d found out, she wasn’t sure. Maybe naming her son after his dead partner had done more to drive him away than endear him. Still, he’d stuck around and visited often enough the first few months before disappearing for five.

“Legends shit,” he says with a shrug and a side glance, “didn’t think you noticed.”

“Come with us,” she says, in an invitation that she knows sounds a little bit commanding.

He doesn’t answer, but he grabs the baby bag from the chair where she’d abandoned it and heads for the parking lot.

Caitlin’s apartment looks like a daycare got turned on its head. There isn’t a lot of time to keep house when you’re trying to keep an infant and a half dozen metahumans alive every day.

“Sorry about the everything,” she says as she brushes off a part of the sofa. She’s suddenly very aware of the ever-present smell of baby powder the likely state of her hair.

“Give him,” he says as soon as he sits on the cleared spot, reaching his gloved hands out toward the baby. Caitlin doesn’t hesitate for long and watches as Mick holds him expertly as she’s seen him do before.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

Mick glances up at her only for a moment before looking back down at the baby, “Sisters.”

Caitlin swallows and bites her lip into silence. She knows enough about Mick’s family history to drop the subject where it stands.

“Do mind if I –“

“Take a minute, I got him,” he says, eyes still trained on Lee as if he’s trying to read his mind or something.

She grabs as much of the debris of their life as she can and stuffs it away in drawers and closets until she feels more like the place is livable. Then she takes a precious sacred moment in the bathroom where she actually looks at herself in the mirror. Suddenly the constant concern from her co-workers makes a lot of sense. The bags under her eyes are dark and she looks…exhausted. When she comes back, Lee is doing a pretty solid job of tugging Mick’s glove off for an 8-month-old with developing fine-motor skills.

“Sweetie don-“

“Let ‘im,” Mick says, watching the boy with admiration, “he’s almost got it.”

“Don’t let him put it in his mouth at least,” she says, falling to the sofa with them. She curls her feet under her, only vaguely recognizing how comfortable she feels, how at ease even with this objectively dangerous man holding her child beside her.

Lee manages to tug the glove off Mick’s hand and then proceeds presently to try and chew on the thing. Mick’s other hand plucks it out and throws it over his shoulder before presenting the still gloved hand for Lee’s entertainment. Her son gets right to work on tugging the other glove off, expertly distracted from a tantrum. He is a quiet child, but when he doesn’t get what he wants he certainly makes it known.

“I should get him to bed soon,” she says, watching as they stare at each other.

“Want me to?”

“You sure?”

“If he fights me I’ll call ya’,” he says, getting up with him in one swift motion and nods towards the TV, “put on somethin’ that doesn’t make you wanna drill a hole in your head.”

She’s half way into an episode of the Great British Bake-Off when she realizes that well…she’s half way through an episode and hasn’t heard a peep from the nursery. She makes her way carefully over and can’t help but smile at the sight. Mick sits in her rocking chair with Lee curled up looking impossibly tiny on his shoulder. At first she thinks Mick is only grumbling and mumblings softly, but after a few second she can make out the melody and words that he’s using to lull the baby to sleep.

_Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship_

_My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip_

_My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels_

_To be wandering_

Mick peaks over his shoulder in a frankly hilarious manner and notices the same thing Caitlin does. Lee’s little mouth is open and his eyelids are fluttered closed. He seems fast asleep and the grace with which Mick rises to lay him in his crib surprises her. He lays the baby on his tummy and takes a moment to watch Lee settle to sleep and Caitlin can’t help but watch him and question the universe and all the jokes it plays on her.

‘Thank you,’ she mouths silently once he turns toward the door and sees her.

He doesn’t answer, but he places a hand on her back as they walk out of the nursery together.

“You should probably go to sleep too,” he says, once they’re out in the hallway, “you look like a zombie.”

Caitlin blinks. She feels a lot of things, embarrassment and surprise chief among them. But the way Mick says it is…honest, genuine…a little concerned.

“It’s just mom face,” she shrugs, “besides the fireworks will wake him up – it’s going to be a long night.”

“Yeah,” Mick shrugs, “go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“I can’t ask you to –“”

“You ain’t, are you? Come on, been doing this on your own for months – take a night off.”

“How about we watch something that isn’t cartoons and if you’re still up for it when he inevitably wakes up you give me a hand?”

“However, you want it, Snow,” he says with another shrug before he heads to the kitchen and grabs a beer. She sets the show back on and settles into the couch, watching him as he hands her a second beer that she’d never seen him grab.

“Why are you doing this?”

Mick doesn’t answer that. In fact, he suddenly looks entirely too interested in the composition of a Norwegian cake.

“Is it because I named him Leonard? You know – it wasn’t an attempt to rope you into his life. We’re not anything to you,” she says, because she suddenly needs to. She needs to let him know, needs to remind herself, that she made the choice to do this on her own with eyes open.

“Why’s everything gotta be so hard with you,” he says, not turning to look at her.

“Because I need to understand,” she says, “how we went from kidnapper and victim to… to whatever the hell this is. This where you care about my kid and my sleep schedule. And I let you put my son to sleep and watch stupid crap on my old as hell TV.”

“You want me to go?”

“No!”

“Then what the hell are you doin, Cait,” he half groans.

“Trying to understand!”

He sighs like he’s got to explain two plus two to a particularly annoying first grader and sets his beer down, turning to face her. She’s still staring, but now that he’s looking directly at her she realizes that her couch isn’t as spacious as she thought. He’s there, right there, as close as he had been that night when he whispered about the properties of the flame – how fire would reveal her. And it has, hasn’t it. Every trial by fire has made her what and who she is. She’s this woman who takes on what shows up in front of her as it comes; grief, widowhood, betrayal, motherhood, responsibility, friendship – all of it without much forethought, all of it as it is presented to her.

Mick kisses like an ember and she might kick herself for using such a fiery motif if it weren’t perfect. It’s slow and scorching and she feels like it could smolder for hours at this pace and warm up every ounce of her, or it could stoke and catch flames. Right now, she doesn’t know which she would prefer, but she leans into the kiss with her whole body, rising up on her knees to bring her closer to him. His hand is on her back again, lower to reel her in and she feels like yes – yes it could catch flames at any moment and then- her heart jumps at the canon blast of fireworks going off right outside her window. Lee’s screams fill the small apartment and Mick is up before she can scramble to her feet.

“Just ain’t that fucking complicated,” Mick says and she thinks he sounds a little breathless but mostly unperturbed by the cries and the blasts as he heads towards the nursery, “take a nap Cait.”


End file.
